


Killing Her Demon

by msmerlin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ContractKilling, F/M, Gen, badasshermione, vengence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16185113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmerlin/pseuds/msmerlin
Summary: Hermione's given the opportunity to make sure her final demon from The War is gone for forever thanks to an old flame. Hermione's Haven Roll a Prompt 2018 Submission.





	Killing Her Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Blood & Death detailed below.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Harry Potter (aside from a shit ton of merch) and earn no money for writing this.

Hermione could feel the heat from the blasting curse as it blew a hole in the stone beside her head. A narrow miss from a wizard whose aim was typically impeccable, which could only mean one thing: in his years on the run Dolohov was getting sloppy. Her body doubled over at the waist, arms rising to protectively curl around her head to prevent the rain of debris from knocking her unconscious as large chunks of stone made their descent to the floor.

She never thought she’d be here, in the Shetland Islands tracking down one of the last remaining Death Eaters who had evaded capture when Voldemort fell. By all intents and purposes, Hermione was not authorized to be here. She was supposed to be back in London investigating a sudden string of deaths. Since the beginning of the year the people who had once claimed allegiance to the Dark Lord where being targeted (at least that was the assumption) by a vigilante of sorts, who was clearly intent to make sure they all paid retribution for their crimes in the form of their life. Even if the Ministry had acquitted them of their charges.

The first to turn up dead was Lucius Malfoy. His death was reported by Narcissa, who found him in his study with an empty bottle of Belladonna next to him. At the time, the papers reported his death as a suicide because of his upcoming trial for his War Crimes, but even then it felt a bit odd. Lucius Malfoy was many things--a snake of a man, a bastard, a crook, and even a shitty human being--but by no means was he a man who would take his own life. Self preservation was a trait the wizard held in spades.

Next, Alecto and Amycus Carrow. Both found in their holding cells at the Ministry where they were awaiting transfer to Azkaban, with their necks in nooses made from their clothing. Again, reported suicides. But as the body count began to tick higher and higher, the presentation in which these bodies were left for discovery was less than subtle. Knife wounds, fresh hex marks, and even once, evidence of a killing curse. Of course, the Prophet was eager to get the smallest details, which was exactly why Hermione got involved: to keep the Prophet’s nosiest reporter from digging too deep into the truth behind their quiet investigation, and to help track down who was responsible for this Robin Hood-like street justice. Of course, when the assignment was accepted she was told it would be from the safety of a desk.

Had Viktor not cornered her that night in the Leaky, that plan of action might have been exactly how this assignment played out. Hermione working countless hours in the Ministry, looking over evidence collected by the Aurors until the murderer finally slipped up enough for her to figure out their identity. What she did not count on was for the murderer to confront her three months into her investigation. Viktor fucking Krum. It could have been anyone else and she would not have batted an eye at calling in the patrol agents. But of course, it had to be him. Her ex, her long-time friend. Viktor was responsible for those string of murders and the reason he had pulled her into a dark corner of the Leaky after buying her a round from Tom was not because he was interested in giving them another go (which, at the time, she likely would have considered given that her love life had been shit lately.) No, he was looking for her help catching the last name on his list: Antonin Dolohov, escape artist extraordinaire, and a wizard who also had a personal vendetta against her. Had he given her any other name, Hermione might have hesitated, but it seemed Viktor knew her history with this wizard already. It’s not like it was exactly a secret though, was it? She spent weeks in St. Mungo’s following the incident in the Department of Mysteries and wrote Viktor during that time. The wizard had also made it known during the brief reign of terror Voldemort held that Hermione was his ‘one that got away’. 

Which was why she originally agreed to help him track Dolohov. Keyword: track. She had zero intention of actually confronting the man who had plagued her dreams since fifth year. Hell, when she had seen him again during the Battle of Hogwarts she almost threw up right there in the middle of the courtyard. Besides, her years of facing danger head-on should have been long over by now! She was 23 years old and no longer the same strong-willed teen; no, time had shown her that not all heroes needed to be out on the front lines. Although she admired Harry and Ronald’s choice for taking their shield, so to speak, she did not see herself ever being comfortable living that kind of life again.

However, when the report from her trace came through and indicated that Dolohov was hiding out in the northernmost Scottish islands, it seemed a bit of teenage impulsivity was still embedded in her bones. This wizard was the last of her terrors from the war, and she was now presented with the opportunity to make sure that his last breath was taken. Even if it was by less than legal means. She grabbed her things and send a message for Viktor to meet her at her flat. The bastard had been found and she would be joining his efforts to make sure he did not live to see the next morning.

“Are you hit, Hermione?!” Viktor called across the courtyard, the concern for her well-being not hidden well in his voice.

“Uh…No, I’m fine!” Lifting her head, she coughed through the smoke as it began to subside, her wand hand at the ready as she tried to wave the smoke away.

“Fucking bastard, stop running and face your fate like a man!” Viktor growled. The Bulgarian wizard had grown since Hermione had seen him last at Fleur and Bill’s wedding. He was no longer thin and lanky, the needed build for a Seeker. Now he was thick, almost bulky with well-defined muscles. She might not have recognized him if it weren’t for his eyes, large forest green with flecks of gold. She would never forget those eyes because those were what first drew her to him during fourth year.

“Fuck you, Krum!” Dolohov’s hiss echoed around the crumbling courtyard, magic throwing his voice in all directions to disorient Hermione and Viktor from pinpointing his exact location. “Igor would be disappointed in you.”

“You can ask him when you meet him in hell. He was the first man on my list!” Viktor shouted back, his head whipping in different directions as he tried to find where Dolohov was hiding.

As Hermione crept from one stone pillar to the next, she could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. Fast, intense and driving her to find shelter in this chaos of the firefight that was occuring. She did not want to take part in it; she wanted to be there as a witness. To come to face her demons and watch them die at her feet. Sidestepping over another rubble pile, she moved towards a large stone alcove, doing her best to keep her steps light as she worked around the room, careful to keep her body hidden as much as possible.

“ _Bombarda Maxima!”_ Viktor’s deep baritone cut around the crumbling silence of the room, and a bright flash of red light illuminated the dusk air for a moment as the spell hit the opposite wall across the courtyard and sent stone and wood exploding through the air. Using the distraction from Viktor’s destruction, Hermione moved quickly. Sprinting the few feet she had left, she skidded into the alcove, her shoulder smashing into the hard stone surface as she stumbled over the rubble on the ground to get to safety. Her eyes shut tight as the slicing hex wound on her shoulder throbbed in pain, causing her throat to let out an inaudible noise in discomfort. It was the first spell Dolohov had cast when they confronted him, and it had cut her to the bone. Clean, deep and sending blood rushing down her arm, but it was not enough to immobilize her, not when the adrenaline pumping through her veins masked whatever hurt she felt better than any pain potion would.

And for just a moment, while letting the sharp ache of the pain overtake her, she let herself relax against the stonewall in hopes that if she let go of some of the tension it might release the discomfort, thinking the alcove would be able to provide some shelter from the Dark Wizard. It wasn’t until she felt the hard point of a wand against her throat that she realised what a grave mistake she had made. Her body went rigid, frozen in fear as her chocolate brown eyes blinked open to reveal the sunken wizard.

Years on the run had clearly not been well for the Death Eater. His clothing was tattered beyond even magical repair, his cheeks and eyes sunken in and the later holding the clear indication of madness in them. Dolohov looked like a dying man, which was almost ironic considering what Viktor’ plan was for him.

“Give me your wand, little lion,” Dolohov gritted through yellow teeth, his eyes flashing between Hermione and the opening to the alcove as if to make sure Viktor was not following behind the witch. His dirty hand was thrust out, growing quickly impatient with her lack of surrender, and he snatched her vinewood away. Dirty fingernails scratched against the base of the wand as he yanked it from her hand. “Screaming will only make this worse,” he warned as he dragged his wand down the column of her neck, leaving a red trail in its wake.

Worse? Worse than what exactly? Hermione had been tortured, beaten and bruised before. Her body bore scars from curses, hexes and jinxes that were meant to take her life, but she still stood. Did Dolohov terrify her beyond belief? Absolutely. But her will to live was far greater than his. This she knew without a shred of a doubt. When the tip of his wand ran along her collarbone to her shoulder, pressing into her open wound, her teeth ground together as she swallowed a scream. Unblinking watery eyes looked away from her personal boogeyman to not let him see the pain he was causing. She was not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly it hurt.

A wicked laugh left his lips, hot retched breath washing over Hermione’s cheek as he leaned in when the sound of Viktor sending another spell across the room echoed into the alcove. “By the time he figures out you’re in here, it’ll be too late...I’m going to enjoy watching you suffer before I take your life, little lion. My death will be worth it if it means I get to--”

His sentence was left unfinished, for as he whispered into her ear, his villainous words dripping horror into every ounce of her soul, her wand hand moved slowly into the front pocket of her jeans. She’d carried this with her since that night at Malfoy Manor. The muggle therapist she had seen for a short while thought it was a bad idea, but she refused to become a victim again. She would never be left defenseless. A small pocket knife was withdrawn. It was unassuming at best, but when the wooden handle released the silver blade inside, it was enough to know damage could be done if needed.

She could feel the self-doubt bubbling as his words washed over her. She wasn’t sure, even in this moment if she could do it, but she had to try. She had to fight. Her fingers curled around the wooden handle, the sharp blade pointing away from him in her first and her hand rose swiftly. she slammed her knife as hard as she could against the side of his neck quickly.

Dolohov’s voice instantly vanished as his mouth began to fill with blood. Instead of menacing words, gargled breaths were given as she removed to knife to pierce the soft yellow skin of his neck once more, and this time she felt as the blade popped against the main artery she knew that lay there. Stumbling back from her, the wizard dropped both wands in shock, his hands going to his neck as his grimy fingers felt the blade protruding from his neck, beady black eyes wide with the realisation that this was it for him. He was not leaving here alive.

She had the upper hand, Hermione knew this now, and the waves of fear she felt only moments ago began to subside, being replaced by a dark desire to watch him crumble. She had not used the killing curse, which meant her soul would still be intact once this was complete, but taking a life, no matter how it was done, was still going to leave a mark. Perhaps, though, this one was worth it.

“Screaming will only make it worse,” Hermione whispered, chocolate brown eyes flickering between his face, which was draining of the last remaining color that lingered, and the wound in his neck, which was gushing blood, covering his filthy clothing in soft pulsating waves. “By the time he figures out where you are, it’ll be too late, Dolohov. Because I am going to enjoy watching you suffer.” She stood a step closer to the bleeding wizard who was now leaning against the back wall, coughing up blood. As she moved in front of him, she reached out and withdrew the blade from his neck, her hand now covered in a mixture of his blood and her own.

“I’ve found him,” Hermione called out, her voice still shaky with adrenaline. “Over here, Viktor!” She watched as Dolohov sunk down into a crumbled pile on the floor, his life fading fast as his heart weakened. Hermione crouched down before him, resting her weight on her toes as she leveled her eyes with his once more, careful to hold his gaze. She wanted to remember this moment, the day her demons died. Carefully turning the blade in her blood-wet palm, her fingers curled around the wooden handle once more, and the final thrust of the knife was placed in the side of his neck just below the junction of his jaw and ear. She watched as his eyes flash with life one last time upon impact, his eyes widening as the horror set in and suddenly they beady pools of molten fury and dread went blank. His flame vanished in an instant.

Viktor’s footsteps echoed around the alcove, growing louder until the foreign wizard found the pair. He slowed to a walk as he approached, beautiful green eyes running over the bloodied wizard on the floor before turning to Hermione, and a crooked smirk fell across his lips. “I thought you said you didn’t agree with what I was doing, Hermione,” he reminded her.

“I don’t,” she whispered, blood-covered hands pressing onto the tops of her thighs as she pushed her aching body up off the floor to turn towards Viktor. “He was already dead when I found him…just like the rest.”

**Author's Note:**

> Endless thanks to my alpha & beta for giving me encouragement. <3


End file.
